


And then my heart with pleasure fills

by multifandom_fanfic_writer



Series: Fics Watched Over by the Eye [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: BAMF!Sasha, Crack, F/M, Flirting, Funny, Gangbang, Kink Meme, Kinktober, Lonely Eyes, M/M, Multi, Pegging, The Mechanisms Were The Archivist's College Band, content warning: Elias Bouchard, dubcon, im sorry this is so hard to tag, more detailed tags and descriptions per chapter, rusty_kink community, this really goes from dubcon to crack i don't even know, this was written in like a day blame quarantine, various prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifandom_fanfic_writer/pseuds/multifandom_fanfic_writer
Summary: Prompt fills of various sizes and sexiness! Tags per chapter.JonElias:1: Elias likes to run his hands through Jon's hair.2: Elias goes to see Jon performing live. Surprisingly, he doesn’t quite fit in with the crowd.3: Jon can’t stop reading a statement during sex.  Elias makes use of that.LonleyEyes:4: To make Peter agree to a final risky wager, Elias loses some bets throughout the years.5: Peter raises his eyebrows at Elias. "You want us to roleplay... as our ancestors?"Other:6: You know, if Elias got pegged, none of this bullshit would’ve happened.7: An unknown fact about Jonah Magnus is that he has, through the centuries, acquired a strange sense of humour.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Elias Bouchard/Sasha James
Series: Fics Watched Over by the Eye [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105445
Comments: 36
Kudos: 191
Collections: Rusty Kink





	1. salvation of the damned

Fill for the following [prompt](https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=163428#cmt163428):

 _More usefully: people write Elias stroking Jon’s hair sometimes and often in passing and I just… I really like that, I would like more of it.  
_ _Bonus for praise kink, double bonus for the praiseworthy element being monster progress on Jon’s part._

Warnings: none  
Tags: hair-petting, praise kink, canon-typical Elias, creepy Eye powers, D/s undertones

* * *

_salvation of the damned_

* * *

The first time it happens, Jon is completely caught up in his own embarrassment.

Taking statements is still a novelty. A part of his job he is only beginning to suspect the importance of.

What surprises him the most is simply how tired he is, afterwards.

Tired enough to lay his head down just a moment, close his eyes, not quite asleep but not aware enough to notice the footsteps coming closer.

The hand running through his hair is deliberate, tender.

Jon makes a noise of contentment at the human contact that he so rarely experiences. Turns his head towards it ever so slightly.

The person in front of him hums, trailing his or her hand from the top of Jon's head towards his ear, finger slowly trailing along his scalp. The nail leaves a pleasant tingle across his head. Jon sighs, still half-sure he is imagining it.

A chuckle from the other person, a hand drawing back.

This is NOT a dream.

Jon shoots up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Elias – his boss – is standing there, regarding him with amusement.

Amazing.

Only three weeks in and fired already.

But Elias calmly asks him a meaningless question and acts like nothing of import has happened. Jon gladly goes along with it - maybe it was a dream, after all?

But it keeps happening.

Once, after a meeting concerning Martin's stay in the Archives. Elias holds his coat out for him. Jon ducks his head and accepts. As he is shrugging into it, one of Elias' hands brushes along the collar to tease the hair at the nape of his neck.

Jon shivers in pleasure before he can stop himself. Flees the office as fast as he can.

Again, after the worms have attacked.

Elias, meeting him outside the institute, drawing close with an expression of genuine relief on his face. "Jon. I'm glad you are safe," he simply says and moves one hand forward to tuck a lock of hair (he’s been growing it out) behind Jon's ear.

Jon stammers a thank you, turning away with a blush on his face.

Even later. The statements get more and more draining. His suspicion about his co-workers is growing.

Twice it happens during this time; once, he encounters Elias in the stairwell, his boss stopping to ask after his health, literally patting him on the head twice before calmly walking away.

Jon has to remind himself that his boss is still a suspect. Does not think to hard about how he wishes to forget that fact.

The second time they are in Elias' office after Jon has reviewed the CCTV material, Elias' smooth voice complementing him on his perceptiveness. Elias closes in on him and in his boldest move yet takes his chin in one hand, tilting his head forward. Jon stills in surprise, unsure what to do but to follow direction.

A second hand moves, grazes through the tangled mess of Jon's hair, and the Archivist shivers. In pleasure, partly, but also with a hint of something else. Something other, watching them.

This time, Elias does not step away. Does not avert his gaze, eyes glued to Jon's.

Jon feels captivated, the colour of Elias' eyes overwhelming. And all the while Elias' hand moves through his hair, up and down and up and down and up and-

Something inside of Jon _shivers_ , propels him forward, pressing dry lips against thin ones. The other man’s eyes widen in something that must be surprise-

Warm lips pressing back against his own, moving so sweetly, so tantalizing, a tongue trailing a blaze of heat-

Suddenly, it is all too much.

Jon steps back, mortified at his own actions. Elias offers no resistance at all, simply watching him. As if it is Jon's choice to come to Elias, be near him, be _touched_ like that, as if-

Jon flees.

* * *

Compelling Elias for answers doesn't work.

Trying to Know anything about his boss is even more of a bad idea.

That does not mean Jon does not try.

"You've grown," Elias breathes as Jon falls to his knees in front of him. He’s clutching his head as the Eye comes closer, sneaking its tendrils into him. "Such a good Archivist," Elias continues proudly, and Jon cannot stop his body from tingling.

Footsteps, quietly. Two neatly polished expensive Oxford shoes enter his vision. Something in Jon tells him to kneel _properly_ before his God, bow lowly, press himself against the ground.

He does not. He's far too stubborn for that.

He also does not protest as a hand tangles itself into his hair, running through the length of it, pulling a little wherever Jon's hair is knotted tightly.

Jon's eyes fall shut unwillingly, the maelstrom of thoughts in his head calming down, like the eye of a storm.

He hears Elias' breath hitch, feels electricity run through his body, setting his nerves alight. Something about this, half-kneeling in front of Elias who may not be as human as he pretends to be, awakes something in Jon that he had forgotten even existed.

Elias keeps stroking his hair. Jon keeps his eyes closed and thoughts quiet and does not stop himself from whining softly whenever Elias pulls at a knot and hates himself for it.

He hopes Elias kisses him again. Like this, Jon's head is in perfect alignment with Elias' groin.

But Elias keeps completely still. The only part of him moving is his hand, ever-present in Jon's locks.

Jon is still debating with himself whether to do something, if the feeling in his stomach is fear or anticipation, when he dozes off.

When he wakes, he is alone.

He tells himself the crushing feeling in his chest is relief.

* * *

"What is happening to me?"

As Jon enters Elias' prison cell he cannot stop the questions from clawing their way out of his mouth. Finally, here is the only other one in the world that is Like Him, who holds all the answers.

Must hold the answers.

Where else can Jon go?

Elias is clad in black slacks and an undershirt, somehow looking more bare than he would have in prison garb. It is only an illusion, naturally, and Elias tuts at him reproachfully.

"Now, Jon, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

That infuriating man.

Jon stalks forward angrily, taking a fist of Elias' shirt and hauling him upright. He manages it far too easily.

Jon channels all his anger and frustration and helplessness as he pushes Elias up against a nearby wall. " _Tell. Me_. What. Is. _Happening_. To. Me."

This time Elias' full-body shiver is easily visible, those ever-watching eyes half-lidded as his chiselled jaw clenches. A beat; two, three, before Elias smiles.

It is not a nice smile.

Jon's knees weaken nonetheless.

"Jon, Jon, Jon,” Elias reprimands, and Jon feels his cheeks heat up. “This is not quite how we do things, remember?"

As Elias speaks, he moves his left hand slowly upwards. Jon eyes it with trepidation and does nothing to stop it as it lands at the base of his neck, moving further up until it's fully submerged in his greying locks.

Whatever fight was left in him evaporates.

"Good boy," Elias whispers, following his words and pressing a kiss against chapped lips. Elias' lips are far too soft for a monster.

Jon cannot stop himself from kissing back greedily.

A soft whine wrenches itself from his throat, echoes between them like surrender. Jon breaks the kiss and falls to his knees, eyes closed, leaning his head against Elias’ hip.

Elias his other hand joins the first, grappling a fistful of his hair tightly.

Somehow Jon is not surprised to feel the usually dormant part of himself responding, burning with hunger.

Maybe that is the reason that when he hears the sound of a zipper, Jon only lets his mouth go slack.

Maybe it is just because it seems like a logical next step. The cumulation of all they are and have chosen to be. The most natural thing in the world.

Jon takes Elias' cock in his mouth eagerly.

The fact that he does not need to breathe anymore makes it easy. He Knows that fact only makes Elias harder, fully erect cock dragging along his tounge as Jon laps at him greedily.

Hands tighten painfully in his hair. Jon moans in response.

"You," Elias says tightly as he slowly but harshly starts fucking Jon's mouth, the first thrust unmercifully deep as Jon gags on the thick length, "you are becoming exactly what you're supposed to be."

Jon's insides are rejoicing, the human and non-human part for once in perfect agreement as Elias fucks his throat with steady thrusts, pulling him back and forth by his hair in a way that makes Jon feel like he's floating.

It feels so good. It is not enough.

Elias' breath is quickening, thrusts becoming more erratic, and Jon Knows he is allowed to touch himself now. He does so desperately, clutching at his own cock through his still unopened pants.

"My Archivist," Elias breathes and fills his mouth with come.

Jon swallows it without complaint as he follows Elias over the edge.

* * *

Pulling Martin out of the Lonely should feel like a victory.

Instead it feels like an inevitability.

As they re-enter the panopticon, Elias is waiting for them.

They stumble back in reality, both of them on their knees from the tumble. The first thing Jon sees is a pair of shiny expensive Oxford shoes.

He raises his head slowly, still on his knees, meets the eyes that haunt his dreams. The eyes that watch him, always. Repulsive and attractive in equal measure.

Silence.

Someone has to make the first move.

Elias is staring at Jon intently, a look in his eyes Jon would hesitate to name something as tame as adoration.

He does not look away.

Martin is the fist to move. Brave, loyal, _lonely_ Martin. He rises up, dusts himself off, straightens. "Come on, Jon," Martin spats at Elias. "Let's leave this place."

Martin turns.

Jon does not follow.

"Jon?" Martin asks over his shoulder.

"Jon," Elias states and holds out his hand. There is pride in his voice. Even now, Jon still hates how well he responds to that.

"J-Jon?" Martin repeats hesitantly, words hanging in the air.

Jon closes his eyes and leans into Elias.

The hand in his hair feels like salvation.


	2. he was a skaterboy

For [this prompt](https://joneliasweek2020.tumblr.com/post/631401350791577600/i-am-openly-laughing-at-elias-rich-rat-bastard) on tumblr:

_I am openly laughing at Elias 'rich rat bastard' Bouchard showing up to one of Jon's punk shows in an impeccable suit. no one knows what's going on until he makes out with Jon near the makeshift bar_

warnings: none  
tags: outside POV, the inevitable jon is in a band fic, funny, humour, wlw bc we need more wlw in our lives

* * *

_he was a skaterboy_

* * *

“Seems like a bit of ‘n posh bloke, don’t he?”

The music is loud, the dim atmosphere of the bar occasionally brightened up by the single cheap but functional strip light on the ceiling.

Celine was a familiar face around The Kraken. ‘T was her kind of place – simple décor, fuck-it decorations, cheap booze. Her kind of people, too – no-nonsense, diverse, and mostly friendly, even if some of them preferred to keep to themselves.

Her kind of music as well. Indie, rock, bit of metal. Place for up-and-coming bands to make themselves known to the crowd. Try out something new.

Nice to have a bit of variety in her life. Every week it was a Friday night well spend, meeting up with friends and judging whatever band was playing that night. Some of them sucked. Some of them rocked.

The one that was playing right now, The Mechanisms, was actually pretty cool. Some kind of re-telling of fairy tales, but with more metal and spookiness.

The lead singer was surprisngly good, his voice just on the pleasant side of hypnotizing without it being weird. He was scarred all over, rough patches of lighter skin against his tanned form, long dark hair messily moving around him as he moved to the music. She wasn’t sure if the streaks of grey were natural or painted, but the whole aesthetic was kinda punk.

Nice.

Celine liked it, though her girlfriend Ashley thought it was a little slow. Their friend Hunter, on the other hand, was completely into it, lost somewhere in the front of the room, headbanging whenever the music called for it – or even when it did not.

However, Celine’s attention was not on Hunter making a fool of himself, nor was it on Ashley, who was just returning to her with two beers in her hand.

No, all her attention was on that posh bloke.

Quite a handsome one, sure, all sharp angles and aristocratic gait, thin lips and slicked-back hair that was just beginning to grey. It made him look more dignified, maybe even in a sexy way, if you were into that kinda thing.

“Whaddya say, love?” Ashely asked loudly.

Celine gestured with her head. “That bloke over there. You seen him before?”

Ashley looked over at the figure leaning against the wall on the far left, the side with the second makeshift bar that only opened on really busy nights.

Tonight was not one of those nights. This only made the guy stand out more.

“Blimey, he look like a million dollars, don’t he?” Ashley remarked as she passed Celine her beer.

He did, Celine agreed. She ain’t much interested in fashion, but she’d always had a soft spot for a good three-piece, be it on a man or a woman (or even better, herself). This guy, whomever he was, was wearing somethin’ bespoke, capital B.

The steel-grey suit fitted perfectly on his frame, the lean lines of the cloth framing his chest and shoulders flatteringly, not accentuating but certainly not hiding the curve of his ass. Even from this distance, the material looked high-quality – maybe even handmade. The black accents made it look even more polished, the silver cufflinks catching the light ever so often.

As the man turned his head, his eyes met Celine’s squarely, pinning her down even with all that distance between them. The green tie and pocket square matched his eyes, she realized.

The shiny Oxfords at the man’s feet, tapping casually along with the beat, only finished the picture.

Celine looked away first.

Ashley was still staring at the man, frowning slightly. “You’re right, luv, he _does_ look a bit out of place. I mean, Kraken's for everyone, but now I’m curious what ‘is business is.”

Celine huffed at that, taking a swig. “Well, not every’un agrees with that first bit. I’ve been watchin’ him for a while now – he’s been approached thrice already!" She held up three fingers. "First by Judy,” she paused as Ashley snorted, “yeah, I know, not surprised either. Bloke seems like her type.”

Ashley nodded. “But,” Celine continued, “he wasn’t interested. Shrugged her off within a minute, I tell ya, haven’t seen any guy get rid of a woman that pretty that fast in ages.”

Ashley shrugged, trailing a hand across Celine’s arm, sending a trail of warmth across it. “Maybe he’s queer?”

“Could be,” Celine agreed, “wouldn’t say so at first glance, but he’s here, ain’t he?”

“And the other two?” Ashley asked curiously, swaying softly to the music despite her earlier criticisms.

Celine frowned. “Well, it was the weirdest thing. First guy, didn’t know ‘im, but got some bad vibes, y’know. All puffed up and full of swagger, already a little drunk, just lookin’ for a fight, right?”

She risked another glance at the posh bloke, but his eyes were on the stage again. “But the bloke just _looked_ at him, smiled, maybe said a thing or two – couldn’t see it – and the other guy just stepped back. Like, freaked out stepped back. I saw his eyes, man, and he looked _fucked up_ , like someone just killed his dog in front of him, or whatever.

Then the guy just… went away. And the posh ‘un turned back to the stage like nothing happened.”

“Huh. Ain’t that weird,” Ashley remarked, eyes alight with interest.

Celine nodded in agreement, gesturing slightly with her hands. “And then the next time, ‘t were two blokes, clearly seizin’ the guy up, thinkin’ if he was dangerous or something, I don’t know. One of them was Pete, though.”

Ashley hummed. “Pete always looks out for ya,” and took another swig, tongue dragging across her lips to catch the foam.

Trying not too hard to stare at her girlfriend’s mouth, Celine distracted herself with her beer, stealing a quick peck when she caught Ashley looking at her fondly.

“Anyway, wha’ ha happened next?” her girlfriend asked eagerly.

Celine hummed. “Well, they came up in his business, you know, slapping an arm around his shoulder, crowdin’ in close and all that. But the bloke didn’t even seem surprised, even when one of them almost spilled beer on his shiny shoes, ha,” she smirked. “Then they talked for a bit, dunno what he said, but it was clear from how Pete reacted that it was suddenly all good.”

She shrugged, peeking once more at the posh bloke, only to colour and avert her gaze as she looked directly into a pair of piercing green eyes.

“Anyway,” Celine continued, feeling uncomfortably watched all the sudden, “after that they were clappin’ him on the back, trading some barbs, wanderin’ away. So I suppose he’s not bad news, at least.”

Ashley smiled. “So we have a mysterious out-of-place posh bloke who may be queer, may be scary, but 's not real dangerous.”

Celine just nodded absently, half of her attention drawn to the band and the dark-skinned lead vocalist, who were starting up a new song.

Something in the slope of Ashley’s smile pulled her back. And rightly so, as her girl’s cheery voice called out, “Let’s go meet him, then!”

“Uh,” Celine said lamely, a flash of the unknown man’s terrified expression crossing her mind’s eye, “I don’t know if – oh, well,” as her girlfriend was already wandering off.

Sighing, she drowned the rest of her beer in one go and followed after her ever-curious lover. Suppose she coulda’ve expected this.

Celine could handle herself in a fight if it came to it, she guessed. And she trusted Pete. The guy’d stepped in often enough if someone was bein’ a creep.

As Ashley slowed her steps to reach a hand out behind her, which Celine gladly took, she finally turned her gaze on the posh bloke once more.

The man was casually scanning the crowd, though for some reason Celine had the impression that his attention was still on the band.

“Hey! How ‘ya doing?” Ashley’s friendly voice calls out as they near the posh stranger, a smile on her face. As they come closer, Celine’s eyes flicker over the bloke’s attire once more. Man, this guy must be rich as balls.

“Good evening,” the guy greets back, and jeez, even his accent is posh. The definition of posh. Google it and his picture would come up and all that.

Maybe they should make a plaque. ‘Most posh bloke to ever enter The Kraken,’ or something. 

“I’m doing quite well, thank you for asking. Who might you be?” Celine barely stops herself from rolling her eyes at his careful pronunciation.

“’m Ashley! You?” her girlfriend said loudly, twirling her hair and cocking her head, looking very angelic to those who did not know her.

“Good to meet you, Ashley, Celine. My name is Elias,” the man replies like they’re at a bloody business dinner.

Celine frowns. She doesn’t like her name, not really; too girly, too mainstream, too boring. But it’s hers, given by her parents, which are pretty cool people, so she’s stuck with it.

However, she never gave her name to the bloke. She may be a bit tipsy, but she’s damn sure of that.

Maybe that’s the reason for her hostility as she steps forward, tilting her chin upwards.

“You sure you’re in the right place, mate?” She does try to keep the sharpness out of her voice. She don’t like being mean, but she also don’t like being surprised like that.

“Very much so. Thank you for your concern.” That smile was just so _condescending_.

Celine feels her hackles raising, drawing out her next words. “Whaddy’ doing here then? Look a lil’ out of place, don’tcha?”

“Celine,” Ashley hissed next to her, elbowing her in the side. “Don’t be mean. ‘m sorry,” she adds to the bloke – Elias – and throws an arm around Celine’s shoulder. “Bit of booze, you know how it goes.”

Elias hums, though he does not seem to believe them. He doesn’t react much further, and Celine shuffles her feet. “Sorry, yeah,” she echoes her girlfriend, “didn’ mean to be hostile. Booze, and stuff, wh’ever.”

She feels those green eyes on her again, and this time she forces herself to meet him.

 _Bad idea,_ something in the back of her head whispers, whatever is left of her primal instinct. But it’s too late.

Celine feels _pinned_ under those eyes, like an insect upon a table, every inch of her soul slowly being scrutinized. It’s looking for something, she thinks, that man is looking for something. And if he finds it, if he finds it-

The moment passes. The piercing eyes leave, move over to Ashley, and the sensation is gone.

Was that – did she have so much to drink, already?

"Apology accepted. I suppose the, ah, _booze 'n stuff, wh'ever_ ," his imitation was pretty spot on, drawing a small smile from Celine. "It's common knowledge that it can influence your decision-making."

Elias sounds detachedly amused, like he's playing with a toy. Celine’s biting her lip, frowning so hard she almost doesn’t catch Ashley’s next words.

“So wha’ brings you to The Kraken?” Her girlfriend asks friendly as ever.

Maybe Celine was just imagining things.

Elias straightens, one hand smoothing down an invisible winkle in his suit, and his eyes flicker to the stage once more.

“My partner,” he answers simply. A small smile plays around his lips – the first honest expression she’s seen on him all night.

“That’s so sweet, watching your partner perform! Which ‘un is it?” Ashley asks curiously, turning around to the stage.

The band is currently playing a slower number, something about King Cole, his three fiddlers, and the night. The lights are dimmed except for a single spot, shining on the lead singer as he weaves a tale of long-dead legends around them.

He’s actually really good.

“He is, is he not?” Elias comments casually. Huh. Hadn’t realized she said that out loud.

“He is. That him?” she replies, pointing at the lead singer at Ashley’s confused look. Must’ve not heard her with all this music.

Elias nods, once, then leans back against the wall once more, smiling slightly. Both he and Ashley are staring at the lead singer as his voice drops even lower, his body almost following the sound of it as he falls on his knees, dragging out the sounds that fall from his lips.

Something in Celine settles at seeing the admiration peek out between the posh, arrogant lines of Elias’ face.

“You must love him a lot,” she blurts out.

Elias’ eyes find her once more, just as piercing.

This time the feeling of being flayed open is even stronger. Her mind feels like an open book, all her secrets laid bare, from the time she’d first kissed a girl under the bleachers while skipping class to the time when her brother’s friend went missing for three days and she’d cried herself to sleep every night until he was found.

It’s shorter, though. The blink of an eye, like self-defence, a reflex-

The sensation disappears. Something in Elias’ face softens.

“I do,” he simply states.

Celine does not answer.

Turning back, Ashley seemed to have spotted Hunter, already being drawn away into his enthusiasm. Celine gladly goes with her, throwing one last long look at the strange man.

He seems amused, somehow.

Whatever.

* * *

The rest of the show is pretty awesome. They drink some more cheep booze, dance as the music picks up, chat with their friends.

Whatever weird taste the posh bloke left in her mouth is easily replaced by that of her girlfriend’s.

The band plays for an hour more, staying a little longer than planned after an enthusiastic demand for an encore. They are all smiling, even the lead singer. Celine can’t help but smile with them.

A little later the three of them – Ashley, Hunter and herself – are sitting at one of the tables, throwing back a glass of water against tomorrow's hangover.

Ashley is laughing at something Hunter said. Celine is about to roll her eyes when movement at the corner of the bar she couldn’t help but pay just a little attention to all night draws her eye.

It’s the lead singer, she realizes, the unnamed man with the long wild hair and ratty clothes. He climbs off stage, the rest of the band finished with their packing and disappearing backstage as he does so.

The bloke who’d introduced himself as Elias straightens from where he was leaning against the unused bar, turning his whole body as the lead singer approaches.

The singer is smiling, thrumming with energy after a good show. He does not waste any time climbing into the bloke’s arms, talking enthusiastically. The posh ‘un is nodding along, smiling as he does so, trailing a hand across the singer’s face.

The singer closes his eyes for a moment with a sigh, then opens them again with resoluteness in his gaze. The dark eyes flicker across the room, assessing, before he drags the older man down for a kiss that starts out slow.

Elias startles visibly, just for a moment, but quickly responds with enthusiasm, pressing the other man closer against him and deepening the kiss.

Something in his response tells Celine they’re not used to being able to do this out in the open. A little pang of empathy runs through her at the thought.

Celine wasn’t the only one who was watching their temporary star and mysterious stranger of the night cross paths. From next to her, she hears a wolf-whistle, and some good-natured laughter. One of them even shouts “Get ‘m, tiger!” at the pair.

The lead singer breaks away quickly at that, face burning even as he scowls at whomever just spoke. His hands, however, do not leave Elias’ body, having no qualms about gripping the bespoke suit tightly.

Shaking off the last traces of lingering suspicion, Celine smiles at seeing the fond look on the posh’ bloke’s face, the slight colour to his pale cheeks.

She must have been imagining things.

After all, they simply seemed to be two blokes in love.


	3. the show must go on

Fill for the following [prompt](https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=278116#cmt278116): 

_Jon is reading a statement, Elias enters the room, starts sucking him off/fucking him/whatever, and Jon physically cannot do anything but continue to read during it._

warnings: dubcon  
tags: manipulation, creepy Eye powers, praise kink, rough sex

* * *

_the show must go on_

* * *

The recorder clicks on by itself, these days. Jon doesn’t even bother to check.

"Statement of... Julio Richards, regarding a childhood fear of a wolf in their backyard. Statement recorded the third of November, 2019. Recording by Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. Statement begins."

Now that he knows more about... himself, and his powers, Jon can _feel_ the way he's suddenly little Julio, warily staring out of their bedroom window late at night.

The hot cup of tea still steaming on the counter, the smell of poppies carried in throughout the half-open window, the door to his office opening...

Wait.

As Jon swirls around in his chair, still talking, he sees over the edge of his paper how Elias closes the door behind him and locks it.

Jon swallows. Elias smiles.

It is not a nice smile.

"I've always had difficulty falling asleep at night. This made the only window in my childhood bedroom a favourite of mine - staring out into our vast garden, there was always something happening." Elias stepped forward slowly but surely, as if Jon were a wild animal, liable to flee at any threatening movement.

Maybe he was.

"There was so much movement, so much happening," Jon recited as Elias circled around him, gaze predatory. Jon wanted to tear his eyes of the paper, to look at Elias more than in his peripheral vision, but he could not. He was too _hungry_.

They've done this before, him and Elias. Call it a mistake; call it an inevitability; call it two monsters seeking refuge in one another (or at least, one of them is. The other might simply be enjoying the inhumanity). Still, never while Jon was reading a statement. 

"I liked to watch all the little animals," Elias closes in suddenly, spinning the chair around and sinking to his knees. Jon swallows as Elias' hands move towards his trousers, not sure if he wanted him to stop or not. "They- they lived their own little lives, crowded around one of the three lanterns in our garden. I always imagined they saw them as their three suns." His flaccid cock is freed from his pants, giving an interested twitch as Elias starts stroking it softly.

Jon himself is a mess of confusion and feelings - fear, shame, arousal, anticipation, alertness - feelings of Julio mixing with his own as the Archivist devours the words on simple paper.

"But one day, there was something else in the garden." As Jon speaks, Julio's fear comes through, filling his voice. Elias shudders in response, pupils dilating, and takes Jon's twitching cock into his mouth greedily.

"It- it, it was, ah, something that did not belong there. I thought I had imagined it, at- at first, so I waited until the next night."

Elias' tongue laps at Jon's cock greedily, making soft humming sounds that vibrate through Jon’s body whenever Jon's voice fills with borrowed fear. As Jon continues reading the statement, he feels himself slowly getting hard.

Elias is annoyingly _good_ at this – teasing and stroking and sucking devotedly. He’s never been one to undersell his own prowess, that man.

Too good. This was- this was wrong.

 _Stop. Not now_ , Jon tried to think really loudly, and Elias stilled. He drew back, slowly, and Jon's breath hitched halfway through a sentence.

Elias kept his gaze on Jon's eyes roaming over written words even as he pulled back and rose to his feet.

Jon tries to not feel disappointed as Elias does so and fails spectacularly. Elias' lips are red, lips glistering with spit, and Jon cannot move, cannot stop reading, cannot _think_ beyond the mess of feelings and the wish for Elias to come closer and the wish for Elias to leave him along and the wish for Elias to drop to his knees again, please.

"Oh, Jon," Elias intones lowly, and Jon shivers. Somehow, the first thought on his mind is _you're ruining the statement_. The next one, _please keep talking like that._

From the way Elias is smiling, he’s caught both.

"When I saw the... thing again, I decided that it was my sole duty as the guardian of our garden to seek it out. To defeat it." Elias smirked and disappeared out of his field of vision. Then- two hands on his hips, from behind, guiding him upwards.

Jon did not know if he was powerless to resist like this or if he _wanted_ to move. The result is the same, in the end;

Bend over his desk, statement still clutched in his hands, mouth still forming words.

His pants, still undone, did not survive the journey.

"I don't- I, I don't, ah, don't know why I had decided that was my job. I was young, I suppose," the trail of fingers across his bare ass, "and- and I did not know the meaning of the word danger quite yet."

More fingers, pulling his cheeks aside, baring his puckered hole for all the world to see. And it is looking. Not just Elias, whose eyes he can feel on him during every hour of the day, but also something else, something otherworldly, the feeling of it intensifying at its two most powerful Avatars so, ah, close together.

"Good boy," he hears whispered behind him, and his whole body shudders in response.

 _Fuck you_ , he thinks defiantly, and feels Elias smile in amusement against the curve of his ass.

"That night I gathered the- the rope, the- aahhh, _Elias_ , what are- _yes, fuck_!" Elias' fingers, first teasing against his rim, suddenly penetrate him sharply. Two at once, curving upwards and immediately finding that sweet spot inside him.

The bastard.

 _The fucking bastard_ , Jon mentally shouts as the fingers withdraw, too soon. Elias sounds as if he’s commenting on a monthly review. "You were reading, weren't you, Jon?"

Jon hisses in response, "You're the one- ah- ruining the, the thing!"

He doesn't see it, but he Knows Elias is smirking again.

Jon wants to lay the papers down, turn around and do- something. Punch Elias, maybe, or kiss him, or fall to his knees and suck his cock greedily until Elias grabs his hair and fucks his face roughly.

But he can't. The statement is still being recorded.

The Eye never stops watching.

The show must go on.

Jon re-focuses and starts reading. "As soon as I set my first step on the wide expanse of grass in the centre of the garden, my feelings of excitement are soon replaced by something else - something dr-dreadful." The sound of his voice was not enough to cover the noise of a zipper being pulled down, nor the slick sound of something else being applied. "I was not alone in that garden, and I- ahhh!"

The burn was tangible as Elias pushed himself inside of Jon with only the barest of preparation.

Jon would hate him for it if it was not exactly the way he liked it.

“ _Elias!_ ”

He moaned wantonly as Elias drove himself deep into his body, over and over again. The words of the statement blurred in front of his eyes, and Jon had almost gathered the willpower to unclench his hands around them, when a hand grasped his hair and pulled him back.

"My Archivist," Elias _purred_ possessively, and Jon whined in response. "You'll keep on recording your statement, won't you? Can you be good for me, Jon? For our Master?"

Cursing his own weakness, Jon nodded as tears of pleasure and pain intertwined started leaking from his eyes. Elias' grip loosened, his punishing pace slowing down, though still dragging across his prostate every. Single. Time.

It gave Jon room to breathe, though, enough room to blink away the tears and re-focus himself on the words.

"The darkness seemed to take shape of something that I, until this very day, do not understand. It looked like a wolf, but it had too many legs, and too many eyes, and too little of everything else. So I turned. And I- fuck, fuck, Elias, please," a hard _smack_ resounded along the office, punctuated by a tutting sound from behind him.

Jon shivered. 

"I turned, and I started to run. My- my feet slipped, and I felt something behind me, but I did not look. If it c-c-could see me, me, I knew that, that it was over, that it, _oh_!"

Elias leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the nape of Jon's neck even as the static feeling around him increased, the pressure in the back of his neck-

Suddenly, he saw double.

Felt triple.

He saw the statement, hazy ink in front of his face. He saw himself, bend so beautifully over his own desk, bare ass being split open by his own cock pushing in and out of him slowly, wait, it was Elias' cock, this was Elias' vision, this was...

Feelings, around him, the terror and dread from Julio, the fear and arousal from himself, the pride and adoration and _mine_ from Elias, mixing together until Jon did not know what was up and what was down.

Elias picked up the pace once more, hands now firmly on Jon's hips, holding him in place and pushing him down against the desk. Elias' breath was quickening now, hips moving faster, more erratically, the first cracks in the man's composure. Jon could feel it now, feel the way Elias' grip on himself slipped, how much he enjoyed it.

And all the while, the Ceaseless Watcher regarding them, beholding them, studying them like insects.

It still wanted more.

He wasn't sure if it was him or Elias who made a last shot at the statement. "I ran, and I ran, and behind me were, were the- the sounds- s-s-sssss," it was too much, it, "sounds of, please, _please_ _Elias please fuck me harder please let me come please I need_ \- "

"My Archivist," Elias hissed as he grabbed Jon's hair, pushed his face against the hard cold wood of the desk, turning his hips upward- pushing in harshly once, twice, balls slapping against Jon's ass, Jon seeing stars and crying out loudly, lips forming Elias' name over and over again-

Elias comes with a groan, spilling his seed deep inside Jon, biting the curve of his neck as he does so. _Mine_ , he does not say.

It rings clearly inside Jon’s head either way.

The feeling of Elias' own climax coursing through him tips Jon over the edge, spurting his own come all over his desk, horrified at himself even as he relishes the feeling of Elias making jerky motions at his back, experiencing their second orgasm simultaneously.

They both collapse at the same time. The feeling of Elias' mind withdraws until Jon is alone in his head once more - insofar an Avatar of the Beholding ever really is alone.

That made him feel better than it should have.

For a minute, the only sound in the office was the panting of two men catching their breath, clutching at each other.

Then, slowly, Elias presses a last kiss against Jon's shoulder, straightening himself. Starts to clean up.

Jon is slower, falling back into the chair with his pants still open, desk in front of him still covered in come. He feels full, sated, though he has not eaten all day.

Elias holds out a handkerchief with a mischievous smile.

"You ruined my statement, asshole," Jon grumbles as he accepts it begrudgingly.

The last sound before the tape recorded clicks off is that of Elias' genuine laughter.


	4. rotten luck

Fill for the following [prompt](https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=221540#cmt221540): 

_Elias was deliberately losing bets with Peter for years, preparing for the day when he could get Peter to agree to some truly ludicrous stakes with the complete confidence that he'd win as usual. I want to see some of the things Elias had to do for/with Peter due to having to lose a bet. I'm thinking sexually submissive, humiliating, and/or risky things._

Warnings: last bit could be read as dubcon  
Tags: rough sex, gangbang, top!Peter, pwp

* * *

_rotten luck_

* * *

When Elias lost the first bet, he was not surprised in the least to be ordered to suck Peter's cock.

Though he'd never admit it to anybody, he had even been looking forward to it. There were precious little circumstances in which he could _relax_ for a little while, and with someone so closely tied to the Lonely, the risks were... minimized, at least.

The only thing he'd been surprised by was the sheer size of Peter's cock and the fact that chocking on it was far more exiting then he'd estimated.

Breathing was a concept he'd left behind him centuries ago, of course - not that Peter needed to know that.

Maybe, Elias mused privately as he closed his eyes and swallowed the bitter taste of Peter's come, this part of the plan could even be _fun_ .

* * *

The second time he loses a bet, Peter gleefully bends him over the against the glass wall of his own office, hands flat against the see-through surface.

The entrance hall of the Magnus Institute is sprawled out before them like a kingdom.

"You're not as good at this as you think you are," Peter mumbles gleefully against his shoulder as he rips his trousers off. Elias hides his smile in the crook of his arm and does not answer.

Elias, of course, makes full use of his powers. No one is truly looking at them. He suspects Peter knows this as well.

The added loneliness of being fucked in front of an unwatching crowd makes it even better for him, probably. Never let it be said that Elias Bouchard does not own up to a bet.

Peter does not prepare him. Elias refuses to make a sound, even as he's pressed hard against the glass wall and panting, a rough hand tugging at his own cock.

He pretends that the warm liquid dripping down his thighs isn't what pushes him over the edge.

* * *

The third time, Elias is forced to wear a remote-controlled vibrator for a whole day. Sex with a partner who it not in the same room, maybe not even in the same reality - it suits Peter, Elias thinks fondly.

The thing buzzes against his prostate at inconvenient times. Rosie looks at him strangely, once, but she is the only one who notices. That, at least, is something Elias prides himself on.

Until Jon shuffles into his office and looks at him strangely. His fledgeling Archivist is not yet grown enough to start Knowing, but he is taking his first steps. Somewhere inside of him, the Eye is whispering to Jon. It makes Elias shiver in pleasure even more intense than that caused by the vibrator currently buzzing inside of him.

Maybe he was a little too obvious, he thinks, as Jon turns beet red and flees.

Pity.

* * *

The fourth and fifth time Peter absolutely _ravages_ him, pounding into him and splitting him open even as Elias' come, splattered between, has cooled off.

Elias is grateful for his patron as his broken skin is mostly whole the next morning.

He is starting to enjoy this whole gambling-thing.

* * *

He wins once. To assuage suspicion.

No other reason, of course.

The signed marriage papers are tucked away in his office. Both his and Peter's matching rings on their fingers for at least six months.

They don't see each other for three months after that, naturally. Elias expected nothing less from a creature of the Lonely.

The way his Archivist's mouth drops open at their next meeting makes it all worth it.

(It's important to seem human, at least.)

Peter, never one for bureaucracy, does not ask for a prenup.

* * *

The next time, Peter is the one who is laughing.

He's starting to understand how Elias works, now. A necessary sacrifice.

After all, there is nothing more important to Elias than his own creation(s). His own Institute.

From Monday till Friday, Elias forces himself into far too brightly coloured suits. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue - wearing a lilac tie all the while. One colour of the rainbow for every day of the week.

He’s never worn anything but black, blue, burgundy or, one one occasion, emerald green.

There has never been so much whispering in the Magnus Institute. Ever.

It’s undignified.

"Encouraging diversity in the office is important, you know," Peter teases him. "Think of all the attention this will get you! Maybe someone will even ask you out on a date!"

Elias grits his teeth. The Watcher is not made to be Watched, and though Peter may not think of it like that, the base of his reasoning is right. Too right.

"I want a divorce," he mummers instead, and Peter laughs.

(All week, Elias pretends absolutely nothing is out of the order, even when confronted directly about it by a few brave souls. Some in curiosity, some even in admiration, a few more already known secrets now voluntarily shared, and some in disgust.

When Elias comes down to the Archives on the third day, the yellow of his suit almost unreal in the darkness of the basement, the whole crew stares at him in wonder.

Jon looks at him, and smiles. Openly. Genuinely. It makes it all worth it.)

* * *

The next one is easy.

It is not as if anyone would miss dear Richard from HR, after all.

* * *

Another bet, another wager.

Elias' ass is still sore from where Peter spanked him raw. He might admit to himself that he actually enjoyed it, would anyone care.

Instead he does his best to fuck himself back on the dildo attached to his desk, the somehow too small silicone thing pushing in and out on one end as Peter's thick and leaking cock slips in and out of his panting mouth at the other.

He may be blindfolded, but behind them, the painted eyes of Jonah Magnus see all.

* * *

Moorland House is not a pleasant place to spend the night at.

Especially not when accompanied only by a bright pink dildo - and no lube.

Elias grits his teeth, thinks of a lifelong dream and a sky full of eyes, and endures.

* * *

 _It will be worth it in the end,_ Elias reminds himself. _When they will all be forced to kneel at my feet under the gaze of the Ceaseless Watcher._

It still takes a force of will built up over two centuries to lose the bet with Peter now that he Knows what's coming.

At least Jon is currently hidden away at his old ex's house. The chances of his Archivist - or one of his little Assistants – ever knowing about this, ah, scene, is very unlikely.

But, Elias knows as Peter pushes him towards the bedroom of some rented penthouse in the middle of London, not impossible.

That is what sets him on edge as Peter pushes him to his knees and puts on the mask.

Elias' only condition: Anonymity. His whole face his hidden behind black cloth, giving the pretence of blinding him. The only thing bared is his mouth.

Aside from the rest of his body, of course.

This will be what finally convinces Peter, Elias Knows. For the great Elias Bouchard would make sacrifices if he wanted something, of course he would, but even he has his limits.

Being gangbanged by four strangers while Peter Lukas watches must be far over that limit.

(It is not.)

As Elias is groped and licked and kissed and touched, too much and too little all at once, he closes his eyes and Watches.

A true priest, he Knows, sacrifices his own fear as well as others.

Switching through five different gazes as they fall hungrily upon him-

His mouth stuffed full of cock even as another finger penetrates his ass, a third man raking his nails over his back-

Hands, pulling in his hair, chocking him on the length in his mouth until he would have started chocking would he still have a need to breathe, unrelenting even as a fat cock is pushed into him from behind, only his own spit as lube-

Face pressed against the bare floor, a brutal pace that hammers against his prostate until he metaphorically sees stars, moans being ripped out of him until he spends himself all over the bare floor, but his, ah, partners do not care. The one inside of him keeps fucking him, hips snapping forward and thrusts becoming erratic-

Pulling out, spilling himself all over his back, even as another takes the chance to dive back into him immediately, driving all the breath out of him as Elias surprises himself by letting out a keening noise, _feels_ the amusement and arousal from the almost-forgotten figure in the corner-

Fingers, pulling his hole even wider as he's fucked, pressing themselves next to the cock already in him, he did not even know that was possible, and he moans half in pain, half in pleasure, as more fingers start pressing him open-

His mouth is suddenly full of come, and Elias splutters as it drips down his chin into the cloth around his neck, gasping for air as the fingers retreat and the one slowly fucking him stills-

He feels the pressure of another cockhead around his entrance, can only gasp in surprise and pleasure and fear. Some part of him, that is always thinking, always Watching, whispers to him. So Elias opens his mouth while he still can and whimpers "P-Peter, please, _please_ ," while he tries not to think about how broken he sounds and-

The second cock presses into him slowly, forcefully, Elias throwing his head back and crying out as the pain shoots through him and the people around him moan, covering up the sounds of footsteps as Elias looks through the blindfold and Sees Peter calmly walking out of the mist, a devilish smile on his face, still fully clothed except for his hard cock peeking out where he opened his trousers-

The two cocks filling him start moving, somehow, but all of Elias' attention is on Peter as he grabs the cloth, tilts his head back and starts fucking his mouth slowly, keeping at it even as Elias' jaw starts to ache and the two men still fucking him leave him full of come and his own cock twitches in overstimulation against his belly-

Unknown to all but Jonah, who is as much part of the Ceaseless Watcher as it is from him-

throughout the whole thing, the Eye rejoices.

* * *

The divorce papers come through.

The Magnus Institute will never lack in funding again.

(For as long at the world will exist, anyway.)

* * *

As Martin finished his rant, Elias slowly turned his head. Savoured the look on Peter's face.

"You've lost, Peter," he sing-songed. "Admit it."

The grin streched unaturally on his face. "He played you like a... like a cheap wistle."

 _Just like I did_ , he did not say. But when Peter meets his eyes, pupils wide in realization as he knows he is lost, that he _lost,_ that it was his own arrogance that paved the way for the Eye, that Jonah Magnus was far more dedicated to his dream than Peter ever could have predicted-

Elias smiles.

When Martin is gone, Elias's voice is as warm and satisfied as it can be. 

"Don't you know, Peter?" he quips as his former husband slips back into the Lonely, flees from something that is inescapable. 

"The house always wins."


	5. a little variety

Filler for this [prompt](https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=311652#cmt311652):

 _P_ _eter probably shouldn’t… like being compared (flatteringly? unflatteringly? dealer’s choice) to his ancestor, right? That’s weird. That’s definitely weird._

_Also definitely working for him, though._

Warnings: none  
Tags: roleplay, Jonah/Mordechai

* * *

_a little variety_

* * *

"You want to do _what_?"

Elias shrugs, deceptively casual for the way his eyes glint. "Why not? We've been around the block with each other enough times, so I thought, why not spice it up?"

Peter rolls his eyes, though secretly he agrees with Elias. It _had_ gotten a bit boring. But he'd been thinking more along the lines of a threesome, or maybe some toys, not...

"So you want us to roleplay as... our ancestors?" Must be a Beholding thing, Peter sighs mentally. Luckily the Lonely never plants weird obsessions in his head like that.

Elias grins, and Peter licks his lips at the mischievousness hidden behind his former husband's lips. "I've recently been studying our families and learning _so much._ You do bear quite a resemblance to Mordechai Lukas himself, did you know?"

Peter simply raises his eyebrow.

Elias steps closer, both his hands now on Peter's chest, and Peter his eyes fall on the glint of a familiar ring on Elias' finger.

Bastard. He knows that always turns him on whenever they're divorced again.

"He was muscular in the same way you are, broad shoulders and upper arms ideal for wrapping around a partner's hips, holding them down when they're being particularly annoying." Elias is caressing his arms lovingly, and Peter feels something inside him stir.

"Your eyes are the same piercing blue as his, able to make a man feel alone in the busiest crowd." A leg slipped between his, and Peter started to smirk. Elias was lovely when he was needy like this. "When you push someone over the edge, you make them shiver in such a way that it's never clear if it's pleasure... or regret at the fact that the act is finished, the curtains close, the point of human contact they longed for so much now once again out of their reach." Elias' eyes were hazy, as if lost in a treasured memory, maybe even one gifted to him from the Eye itself. His voice was silky, sultry in a way that he never let anyone else hear.

Peter did not quite know what was going on - but he was into it.

He still had no fucking idea what role he was supposed to play, but if the old man had been anything like Elias, it should be simple enough.

Elias took his moment of indecision to surge upwards, pulling their heads together for a kiss.

But Peter had other ideas. Turning with the force Elias' movement, he whirled the two of them around until he had his potential husband pressed against the wall.

"And you, Jonah," Peter intoned sternly, enjoying the way Elias' eyes darkened visibly, "you and your ever-honeyed words. It is my doomed task in life to find a way to _shut you up_ ," and surged forward to meet thin lips in a kiss.

Elias kissed back with passion, grasping at Peter's arms as if they were a lifeline. Peter chuckled against desperate lips, grasping Elias' chin in one hand and pulling back just enough to start whispering against thin lips.

"You always want to _know_ , don't you, _Jo-nah_? Always want to have every single secret laid out bare for you, you and that Eye of yours." Elias moaned in response, and Peter grinned.

"You can start by learning how to suck me off nicely, doesn't that sound good? Maybe your mouth can finally find another use instead of just asking questions all day."

He punctuates his words by pressing lightly on Elias' shoulders, who falls to his knees willingly. Hm. Usually, it takes a lot more of teasing and baiting and pushing until Elias got to this point.

"Don't worry, Mordechai," Elias whispered reverently, "I'll make you _see_."

Peter did think it was kind of weird how much Elias apparently got turned on by comparing him to some old dead guy.

Furthermore, it was also a little weird how much Peter himself was into this. Pretending to be other people having sex with each other - doesn't get more lonely then that, he supposed.

As Elias started sucking his cock like he was trying to qualify for the Olympics, Peter decided that he didn’t mind at all.


	6. taking you down a peg

prompt part of [this post](https://supercasey.tumblr.com/post/630852902344376320/what-your-tma-otp-says-about-you):

_“Somehow you came to the conclusion that if Elias got pegged then none of the bullshit in the series would’ve happened.”_

Although the original joke-ish pairing in this prompt was Gertrude/Elias, my head saw this and went “Sasha pegging Elias.” So then this happened.

This could have totally happened in canon. Fight me.

 _warnings_ : none  
 _tags_ : pegging, top!Sasha, d/s undertones, Elias turned out super bratty in this for some reason

* * *

_taking you down a peg_

* * *

“So,” Sasha says evenly as she closes the office door behind her and locks it in one smooth move. “I heard you chose Jonathan Sims as our new Head Archivist.”

Elias Bouchard, esteemed Head of the Magnus Institute, keeps his gaze at the laptop screen. The soft tapping of keys is the only sound in the office for a long moment.

Brat.

“That is correct, Sasha,” he eventually answers as if it was an afterthought.

Sasha hums and takes a seat in front of Elias’ desk, dropping the bag she was carrying next to it.

Elias does not pay her any mind but Sasha knows him better than that. She pulls out her phone casually, starts answering some e-mails, tutting disapprovingly every now and then in a way she knew got on his nerves.

This went on for a full three minutes. Mind you, this was not the longest the two of them ever had a, how should we call it, stare-off. Sasha, as the current Archival Assistant with the longest tenure and enough of belief in the supernatural, was the main point of contact between the Archives and the Institute, a.k.a. Elias.

Ever since the relationship between Gertrude and Elias had, how shall we say it, soured over these past few years, her and Elias had stuck up a kind of camaraderie.

“What do you want, Sasha?” Elias eventually says impatiently. Sasha does not smile.

Instead, she puts her phone away, folds her hands and meets Elias eyes straight on.

“You’re being an idiot.”

Both of Elias’ eyebrows raise high.

“I think,” Sasha continues as if nothing was wrong, “you haven’t had enough honest people, honest criticisms, around you for a while. Ever since you and Gertrude had your,” she waves her hand, “little disagreement, I know that aside from Rosie – who would never dare speak against you – _I’m_ the only one here that actually treats you like a person.”

Elias is looking at her intently. Does not contradict her.

So Sasha presses on. “A person who can make mistakes. Like making some random researcher Head Archivist instead of me.”

Elias had closed his laptop by now. Sasha was relieved to see he was finally giving her his full attention. She’d been here often enough; discussing statements, follow-ups, fixing Gertrude’s paperwork and more. Elias was a masterful multitasker, but Sasha always made sure he was giving her all of it.

“Jon has enormous potential,” Elias says softly but Sasha wasn’t having it.

Rising from her chair, she places both hands on Elias’ desk and leans forward, an electric current in her voice she’s never felt before.

“So. Have. _I_.”

Elias leans back a fraction, eyes widening minutely, and Sasha smirks.

“So it seems,” he responds neutrally.

“So,” Sasha continues conversationally, “I have come to the conclusion that you need to be taken down a peg. Keep you grounded, down-to-earth, so to say. Remind you of your limits. Don’t you agree?”

Elias’ eyes flicker from her smirking lips back to her burning gaze, regarding her sharply.

Then he leans forward, accepting the challenge, bringing his face closer to hers. “Well then, _employee of mine_ , what do you have in mind?”

Sasha smirks.

Stepping back and reaching into her bag, she throws something at her boss, savouring the look of surprise on his face.

Pulls out something else and watches Elias’ eyebrows climb to heights she’d not thought possible.

“You have until I finish strapping this on to prepare yourself,” she adds sweetly.

The harness dangles in her hands, bright pink dildo just a little bigger than you’d expect.

Somehow, when Sasha had been choosing her, ah, equipment back home, she’d suddenly… _known_ that Elias would prefer this one.

That he would be into this.

Elias had sucked in a breath when she pulled out her stap-on. He was sitting on the desk, frozen in surprise, and Sasha takes a moment to turn to him and quirk an eyebrow.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks impatiently though her eyes are sharp. Sasha may own her kinks, her partner’s consent was as important as ever.

But there was no need to worry. Her hunch had been right.

At her words, Elias honest-to-god _flushes_ and begins unbuckling his belt quickly with one hand, opening the bottle of lube with the other.

Sasha bites her lips and averts her eyes.

Though she tries to concentrate fully on her harness – tightening the strap around her waist and ass, making sure the fit was right – she is not as focused as she would like to be.

The slick sounds and bitten-back groans coming from the desk ensure that.

Though she wasn’t hurrying herself, Sasha does not hesitate as she finishes her preparations and double-checks if the dildo is thoroughly secured.

Only then does she turn back around, drinking in the sight that greets her greedily.

Elias is still wearing his rumpled blouse and tie, though he’s lost his suit jacket. His hair is neat as always but his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are burning.

He is completely naked from the waist down, sitting on the desk with his legs wide open. One of his hands holds up his leg as the other presses three fingers into himself, scissoring his tight hole, already slick with lube.

“Good,” Sasha tuts approvingly, sinking into a familiar mindset. Elias’ eyes flash. “Now turn around.”

Elias removes his fingers slowly, wiping them on a nearby sheet of paper and lazily turning around. Pointedly, as if to show that he was still in control.

She’d have to fuck that out of him.

Sasha closes the distance between them in two quick steps, guiding her dildo to lay snugly between Elias’ asscheeks, rubbing back and forth with care.

She trails one hand across his back, creeping upwards until it reaches his hair and grabs it tightly. With the other, Sasha grabs the bottle of lube and applies a generous amount on herself and her partner. Elias shivers every so slightly at the cold, eyes half-lidded.

Slowly, she starts to rub the cockhead against Elias’ entrance, watching his body tense in anticipation.

Rolling her hips in ever-so-slight motions, the dildo rubs Elias’ hole, the tip teasing against his entrance but never actually doing anything.

Once, twice, thrice…

“Are you going to actually _do_ anything or- _oh_!”

Grinning, Sasha pushes in steadily, hips snapping forward as soon as Elias opens his mouth. The haughty impatience turns into a needy groan as she fills Elias completely, inch by inch until she was completely bottomed out.

Elias is breathing quickly now, sucking in unsteady gasps of air as he tries to keep silent out of pure defiance.

Sasha holds herself there for a moment, waiting for Elias’ breath to even out, adjust himself to the sensation. Then she waits a moment more, until Elias starts to shift impatiently underneath her, opening his mouth to make another bratty comment.

Sasha starks fucking him in earnest.

Elias’ words change into moans, the first one escaping without his approval. Sasha grins victoriously. Snaps her hips forward again and again, enjoying the way Elias’ body visibly clenches around her cock, lithe hands trembling.

But something was not quite right yet. Sasha tries to change the angle of her hips – once, twice. None of it wields quite the result she wants. Doesn’t quite hit that spot inside of Elias that she is seeking. If she could only…

“Are you, _ah,_ are you even trying, dear S-Sasha? I must say, I’ve-”

And suddenly she Knows exactly how to fuck him.

Pressing Elias roughly down into his desk, closing in on him so she can change the angle just so, Sasha is rewarded as Elias’ breathy commentary cuts off.

“Yes,” the man hisses behind closed teeth. Sasha’s breath quickens, her own face flushing hot and increases her pace.

Elias’ mouth falls open soundlessly as shudders start to wreck his body. Sasha keeps the pace up for a full minute, seeing the tension build up in her partner’s body, almost reaching its beak before she stills completely.

Elias half-bites back a whine at the loss, then curses softly under his breath. Though he does not say anything else, the way his body wiggles underneath hers is telling enough.

“What is it, Elias?” Sasha remarks far too innocently for someone still six inches deep into her boss. “What do you want?”

Elias’ voice is unconvincingly casual. “Can’t you guess, dear Sasha?”

Sasha leans forward until her lips touch Elias’ shoulder. Bites down softly, enjoying the shudder the action elicits. “I would rather hear you say it.”

“No.” Elias answers flatly.

Sasha simply leans back and waits.

Unlike their usual stare-offs, this time Elias lasts barely half a minute before giving in, letting his head fall forward against the desk. “Fuck,” he groans in defeat, breathing in unsteadily.

“Please fuck me,” he manages with gritted teeth.

Sasha shivers at the words but cannot hold back a smile. “I’m sorry, Elias, but that simply did not sound convincing.”

This time Elias pushes himself up as much as he can, moving back into Sasha’s cock as much as she allows. Even that little bit of friction drags a moan out of the man.

“Sasha,” Elias repeats, and _there_ was the edge of desperation she was looking for, “ _please_ fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” she responds lowly, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him upright, pulling out of him at the same moment. Elias makes a noise of betrayal, but Sasha has already turned him around so they are face to face, his ass still on the edge of his desk.

His cock is flushed and leaking, the top buttons of his blouse undone. Elias’ pupils are dilated, his entrance clenching and un-clenching in need.

His desk is the perfect height for Sasha to slide back in with one fluid motion.

Elias moans loudly, throwing his head back with a sense of exhibitionism and exposing his pale throat. Sasha moves towards it with abandon, biting a trail across his neck to his collarbone, all the while fucking him steadily.

“ _Harder_ , p-please, _more_ ,” Elias begs lowly in her ear and Sasha complies, feeling oddly obedient, planting her arms at either side of his narrow hips.

Setting a brutal pace, this time easily finding his prostate, her eyes do not leave Elias’ flushed face and open mouth as he keeps making arousing noises at every snap of her hips.

One of his hands starts creeping downwards, towards his own cock, but Sasha grabs it and pins it in place. “No, that won’t do,” she tuts breathlessly and Elias eyes burn into hers. Her voice turns darker, lower. “You’ll come solely on my cock or you won’t come at all.”

Again, as the words leave her lips there is a sensation behind them, underlining her words, as if something within her is convinced that simply saying them would make them so. Whatever it is, it makes Elias’ eyes flutter shut as his body shakes, once and twice and-

Elias falls back onto his desk bonelessly as thick white spurts of come cover his stomach, moaning desperately as he climaxes _hard_. Sasha slows down but only marginally, fucking him through his orgasm and teasing his prostrate a few more times before pulling out.

He looks beautiful like this, Sasha can’t help but think, all fucked-out and pliant.

When she voices the thought aloud, Elias has enough energy left to tilt his head upwards to give her a haughty stare. The effect is very much ruined by the dazed and thoroughly-fucked look on his face.

It seems her boss has some energy left in him, still.

Good.

Quickly unstrapping herself and letting the harness fall on the ground, Sasha moves forward with determination. Climbing up on the desk, which creaks under their shared weight but holds its ground.

Elias makes a noise that lands somewhere between curiosity and anticipation as Sasha puts a knee on either side of him, towering over him.

“You _have_ heard of the idea of reciprocity, haven’t you? Now, I’ll give you a choice – fingers or mouth?”

Elias’ eyes flare with intent at her words as he licks his lips once, slowly and deliberately.

Sasha does not need any more encouragement, shuffling forward and placing her wet cunt directly on his mouth.

 _The brat is surprisingly good at this_ is the last coherent thought in her mind before it is filled with pleasure. Elias’ tongue is quick but gentle, applying just the right amount of pressure, and when Sasha slides both hands in his hair and tightens them the resulting moan vibrates pleasantly against her clit.

Worked up as she is, it doesn’t take long for her own orgasm to hit, leaving her shuddering and falling backwards and to the side, thankful for the arrogant broadness of Elias’ desk.

Both of them lay there for a moment, catching their breath. Sasha is the first one to recover, trailing her hands softly across Elias’ body, digging her nails in half-way through and enjoying the way Elias’ breath hitches.

“So,” she starts cheerfully as she picks her strap-on up from the floor and puts it in a plastic bag, “I think we’ve come to an agreement, don’t you, Elias?”

Elias has pushed himself up on both elbows, looking at her with a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

She smiles innocently in response. “Both Jonathan and I will be promoted to Head Archivist, starting next Monday. I’ll e-mail you my choice of assistants, and inform Jon myself today.”

Elias is silent for a few seconds and she can see the gears turning in his head. Trying to turn, at least, as the dazed look on his face has not completely gone yet.

“That seems reasonable,” he eventually agrees. Sasha’s nerves tingle in triumph.

“Good,” she responds confidently as she buttons herself back up and grabs her bag.

“And if you ever need to be… assured of my competence, well,” she throws a look over her shoulder as she unlocks Elias’ office door, “you know where to find me.”

“I certainly do,” is the last thing she hears before Sasha James shuts the door behind her with a smile.


	7. too stoned to move

Fill for this [prompt](https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=595812#cmt595812):

 _Jonah Magnus has lived for so long he’s aquired a weird sense of humour. So basically he trolls the Archival staff (as long as it doesn’t hurt his plans of course_ )  
\- Fill inspired by Ben Meredith’s… [everything](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eN6HKIUyoI0), the first piece of [this](https://aeli-tan-art.tumblr.com/post/630291549935288320/the-magnus-archives-comic-covers-part-1-2) series of amazing Magnus Archives art, this [tumblr](https://snapdraqons.tumblr.com/post/628227807771770881/tma-au-where-everything-is-the-same-except-tim-and) post, another [tumblr post](https://strangestarlightmusic.tumblr.com/post/630409381632147456/peter-lukas-pranks-elias-because-he-is-bored-one) about googly eyes

warnings: none  
tags: elias is a troll here, humour, crack, s1-s2 ish i guess, 5+1 but reversed i guess, bit of lonely eyes, tim & elias

_too stoned to move_

* * *

+1

* * *

Jonah Magnus has lived a long, long life.

Human minds were not supposed to stay alive for over two hundred years. Jonah knows that. And although Jonah cannot rightly be called human anymore, not for a long time, well, maybe that only accelerates the process.

To come to the heart of the matter, when you look at it, Jonah Magnus is actually quite strange.

Oh, he plays at being a boring bureaucrat, sure. But underneath it is something… twisted.

When he executed his first body snatch all those years ago, he’d just never estimated how much his sense of humour would twist with it throughout the years.

* * *

1.

* * *

Elias has build up his reputation very carefully. This body’s original inhabitant was, after all, not one that inspired much respect. Though there was no one working here that knew him… before, Jonah – Elias, now – still took no chances.

This was one of the reasons why he turned up at his Institute every day impeccably dressed. His suits were always pressed, tailor-made, professional. Carefully chosen shoes, ties and cufflinks; there was no mistaking the fact that he was in charge here.

One of the reasons.

Another reason was, well.

He descended into his Archives casually, breathing in the smell of old paper.

The first one he encountered was Martin, quietly making four cups of tea. As Elias’ footsteps came closer, heels clicking against the wooden floor, Martin looked up in reflex.

And promptly spilled tea all over himself.

“Martin,” Elias tutted reproachfully, hiding his amusement with ease. “Please be careful. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt now, would we?”

Martin did not respond, occupied by both trying to stop gaping like a fish and cleaning up his mess.

Elias sighed and reached into the back pocket of his skin-tight black leather jeans to reach out the handkerchief he’d prepared.

Pushing it into Martin’s reach, the other man stammered a thank-you while accepting the piece of cloth. Elias smiled at him fondly, inclined his head, and moved on.

The door to Jon’s office was closed, and Elias knocked on it patiently. The sound of golden rings against the wood made Jon startle at the other end of the door.

“Come in,” Jon answered slowly, and Elias opened the door.

“Ah, Jonathan,” Elias said casually as Jon’s eyes widened. “I have a few papers for you to sign. Nothing too big, just this months’ budget expenses, but it would please me if you could just check them off right now.”

Jon was still frozen in disbelief even as Elias bend forward to hand him the sheets of paper he had been holding. As he did so, the golden chain around his neck dangled forward, the large eye-shaped pendant bumping against Jon’s mug and making a clinking sound.

Elias stood still and smiled patiently as Jon gathered his bearings, signing the sheets with a shaky hand. He didn’t quite manage to meet Elias’ eyes as he held the papers back out for him to take, and Elias resisted the urge to dip into Jon’s mind.

The blush on his face, though, was easy to see. “Thank you, Archivist,” Elias said simply as he once again held the papers against his torso.

One advantage of wearing a turtle-neck that fit so snugly against his skin was that there was no loose fabric that might crumple the papers. The white of the sheets was quite the contrast with the black of his shirt. Personally, Elias thought it looked quite complimentary on him, outlining his muscles just so without showing off.

Elias turned around, eye-shaped earrings swishing as he did so – matching his pendent and rings, of course.

“Ah,” he heard Jon answer dumbly behind him, and this time it did take some effort to bite back a smile.

Just as he was about to make his way back upstairs, there was a voice behind him. “Hey, double boss, nice shoes!”

Tim was half hanging out of a nearby doorway, grinning at Elias in full force. His eyes were on Elias’ ankle boots. Its golden heels and golden laces glittered in the dim light of the Archive, accentuating the yellow-and-gold luxurious pattern over the shoe. Tim was thinking so loud Elias could not help but pick up the thought _WHAT pimp shoes_.

It took years or practice to keep his face neutral.

Elias quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Stoker,” he said and turned his back on the lot of them with a smile.

* * *

2.

* * *

Timothy Stoker and Elias Bouchard have a peculiar sort of working relationship.

Now, you may think _must_ have something to do with the Entities. Tim’s quest to find his brothers’ murderer. Elias’ love of vague and threating answers.

However, that is simply not true.

The real reason of their mutual awkwardness is that they constantly, unchangeably, unavoidably turn up on each others’ For You page.

Both of them try to avoid each other’s TikTok account as best as they can. But it’s just not possible to not see glimpses of their videos when they apparently run in the same circles.

Elias does not want to deal with the concept, never mind the repercussions, of Tim covering the literal whole Archive in gummy bears, never mind how well-filmed.

Tim wants to pretend he never saw and heard Elias, with a surprisingly pleasant tenor, sing along to _I wanna be Tracer_.

Elias wants to delete the image of Tim joining in on an acapella-WAP parody in what can only be the Archive’s storage closet.

Nor does Tim want to begin to understand when Elias recorded himself pulling of the Renegade dance flawlessly with a far-to-familiar lobby as background.

Unfortunately, they cannot outrun their mutual online lives forever.

It all comes to a head when, one late Monday night, two shadowy figures descend the stairs – one upwards, one downwards – to reach the abandoned Institute Library.

The flashlights on their phones click on at exactly the same time.

Two pairs of eyes stare at each other, first in suspicion, then in surprise, and finally, in resignation.

“We never speak of this.”

“Agreed.”

They go their separate ways.

Unknown to the other, each deletes their account that night.

* * *

3.

* * *

“Yes, yes, that will work just fine. If you could bring them up here speedily,” Elias intoned through the phone, just on the edge of friendly.

“Of course,” Martin said quickly, always eager to please.

“Thank you, Mart- Ah!”

Elias cut the call with a surprised exclamation. Smiling mischievously to himself, he then carefully stepped around the mess behind his desk and retreated to the adjoined – and hidden – bathroom, leaning back against the door and closing his eyes.

His own portrait’s eyes were more than enough for this, after all.

After just a minute – that boy could really hurry if he wanted to – Martin knocked on the door of his office. And look! He’d even brought his friends with him. How pleasing.

Even Jon was trailing behind them, looking suspiciously at the office door but not wanting to be left out.

They were still so young, all of them.

After a minute passed and Elias did not answer, he heard their whispering through the door.

“Just lay it on his desk, Martin, who cares,” Tim said a little too confidently.

“But what if he gets angry that I entered his office without permission?”

“I’m sure he won’t be angry that you did as he asked, Martin,” Sasha added reassuringly.

Martin bit his lip, still looking hesitantly at the door. Behind the three of them, Jon sighed once and stepped forward, simply grabbing the door handle and pushing it open.

Ah, that willingness to throw yourself headfirst into danger is only one of the reasons Elias is so pleased with him.

Elias’ office was empty – for as far the four of them could see.

They stepped forward slowly, all of them looking around like Elias would be jumping from behind a book case to jump-scare them at any moment. To be honest, Elias was sorely tempted.

But this was better.

“Just put it on his desk,” Jon said impatiently as he veered off to one of the shelves, inspecting the trinkets on it with a frown.

“Okay,” Martin said demurely, bending forward to place the papers just on the edge of Elias’ large desk.

Tim, however, had no such reservations. Shooting a grin at Sasha, he walked around to behind the desk, grasping the expensive leather of the office chair. “Look, Sasha, I- wow!”

The others’ head swivelled towards Tim as he stepped back in surprise.

There, on the seat of the chair, lay an enormous pile of… something.

“Are those googly eyes?” Sasha exclaimed in disbelief.

“I think they are,” Tim breathed in curiosity as he bend forward to look closer. There were hundreds of them on the chair, a few dozen more scattered around the base of the chair.

“What does this mean,” Martin whispered fearfully.

Jon scoffed, though he seemed unnerved. “Just some dumb prank, I’m guessing.”

“But Elias never leaves his office. And I’ve just had him on the phone, and guys, he was cut off so suddenly, what if something happened to him, what if-“

Jon cut of Martin impatiently. “What, someone took Elias and turned him into a heap of googly eyes? That’s just strange.”

Tim, however, had stilled completely. “We don’t know. There are a lot of strange things in this world,” the man added stiffly before backing away from the chair. Ah, of course, his brother. Elias hadn’t even thought of that connection applying here. A pity.

Sasha was biting her lip as well. “The eye-theme does seem a bit… Well. Maybe we best just return to the Archives, guys. Hopefully, this is all just some prank and Elias will pop downstairs to laugh at us tomorrow.”

Jon looked at all of them with raised eyebrows, but eventually just huffed. “Fine. Fine, let’s go, then,” adding action to intent by marching out of his office.

As soon as they were gone, Elias muffled his laughter into the crook of his elbow. He hoped that, once they were further along the… process, the team would look back on this event with even more questions.

Elias himself, of course, will pretend nothing like this ever happened as long as he lives.

So ever.

* * *

4.

* * *

“I’m not too late for cake, am I?”

Elias entered the breakroom with a polite smile on his face. Celebrating Jon’s birthday – how cute. How innocent.

As the Archival assistants start in on Martin about keeping a secret, Elias feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Sigh. He pulls it out, throws it a quick look, and presses decline. Throws in a quip about keeping an eye out, smiling far too broadly.

Around him, Sasha is teasing Jon about his age, and Elias observes. As he does so, his phone buzzes once more.

This time, Tim and Jon throw him questioning looks, but Elias just waves a hand as he presses deny once more.

“Anyways,” he says as a distraction, “somebody mentioned cake.”

“Uh, yeah. You did,” Tim states teasingly, at Elias inhales in mock surprise. He’s about to answer when his phone buzzes once more, and instead of words an annoyed sigh leaves him.

“Shouldn’t you take that, boss?” Sasha asks awkwardly. Elias just huffs and waves his hand at her, turning his gaze to Tim as he gets out the cake.

An awkward rendition of _happy birthday_ later, there is silence once more as Tim lights the matches. Elias smiles at Jon’s uncomfortable look. His dear Archivist already so concerned about his little kingdom.

This is, of course, when his phone buzzes _again_. This time, Elias cannot help the irritated twitch of his eyebrow as the words _Peter Lukas_ appear on his screen once more. He presses down on the denial button hard.

This time, all of them are staring at him.

“Shouldn’t you- It could be important, if they call so often,” Martin stammers out eventually.

“Who is calling you so much, anyway?” Jon asks curiously, and the slightest sliver of compulsion laced through the words make Elias decide to comply. Good behaviour should be rewarded.

“My husband,” he answered detachedly, “and don’t worry, Martin. I’m doing him a favour by not picking up.”

The silence that follows his statement is, simply said, hilarious. Oh, he couldn’t have chosen a better time.

“But you’re not wearing a ring!” Sasha blurts out, then slaps a hand over her own mouth.

Elias smiles indulgently at her. “That is correct. I only wear that whenever we are divorced.”

Let Peter not say he doesn’t ever do anything for him.

“I,” Jon says confusedly, then stops himself.

The phone buzzes once more.

Elias lets it buzz this time, feeling strangely pressured as four pair of eyes bore into him.

“Fine,” he sighs eventually, “but if Peter gets mad I blame all of you.”

Four pairs of eyebrows raise high as Elias turns around and accepts the call.

“Elias Bouchard,” he said curtly, and throws a vindictive look over his shoulders as Peter’s voice rings clearly through the speakers.

“Elias!” and the usually pleasant voice is drenched in offence. “Why did you pick up? That is simply _not_ how we do things. Do you _want_ another divorce?”

“Blame my staff,” Elias responds as he slowly wanders off, trying to find the most lonely place in his Institute to soothe his husband.

Behind him, the four members of the Archives mouth _what the fuck_ to each other.

As soon as he’s out of hearing range, Elias bursts into laughter, not letting Peter in on the joke at all.

It seems to placate him.

* * *

5.

* * *

Jonah should have known better than to indulge in the original Elias’, ah, old habits.

But he’d been bored, he supposed, and thought: why not? His new Archivist was coming along nicely, though slowly, still so sceptical to his role in this world. And this body had experience with this sort of thing, had it not?

So Elias had gone out for a walk, brought some weed like it was something he did every day, and returned to his office to enjoy it.

He just hadn’t expected it to hit quite so hard.

Now everything is whirling, and he’s Seeing so many things, though he’s not sure if that’s the Eye, or the weed.

What he is sure of is that his limbs are far too heavy and the only thing in reach is his phone.

Furthermore, Elias did possess some kind of sense, so he’d only done this after work hours. Why he did not do this simply at home, he wasn’t sure. He supposed the Institute itself was as homely as it got for him.

He was lucid enough a few minutes ago to call for a taxi, which would be there in fifteen minutes, ready to take him to his actually home.

The only problem was getting downstairs.

Rosie had already gone home by now, which only left one option. Only one other person who could be counted on to stay this late.

Slowly but surely, he pressed as sequence of buttons on his phone, squeezing his eyes against the bright light of the screen as he did so.

“Elias?”

That was not his name, actually, but that was not important right now.

“Jon, it pains me to say this but please, come to my office as I require assistance.” He was still so ek-ec-eloquent. So impressive.

He could feel his Archivist’s suspicion at the other end of the line, but forced himself to keep talking.

“I am too stoned to move.”

“…”

Better reassure him this was no joke. Not like those googly eyes.

Ha! Those googly eyes. He was fucking hilarious. Why hadn’t he ditched his institute yet and started a one-man comedy show?

Oh, right. The Wachter’s Crown, and stuff.

“I am telling the truth,” Elias half-giggled, still wrapped up in his thoughts. “Jon. Joooon. Jo-hon.” Wait.

Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

The phone was beeping, line now dead. Elias stared at the device in his hand indignantly. How dare this piece of… modern technology… do this to him? Back in his day, he’d never had a letter give out on him halfway through. He would do… something about it, he decided. Maybe he would offer the phone to the Eye. Or just sit on it.

It was still too bad he couldn’t move his limbs.

Although he really liked this body’s fingernails. They were long, and thin, and slim. Neatly trimmed. Unlike those of his original body – he’d picked up a nasty habit of chewing on his nails in his youth, so they had always been uneven.

“Elias, this is not funny,” a voice said as the door to his office opened. Ah, Jon was here. Good, good. His Archivist, arriving just when he needed him. Maybe he’d Known Elias needed his help.

“Jonathhen,” he said slowly, still staring at his fingernail. “I need your help. Should I puh, paint my fingernail? I was thinking green. To match,” he bit back an unmanly giggle, _now is not the time, Jonah,_ “to match my eyes.”

“My god,” Jon replied, “you weren’t kidding, were you?”

“I am never gigging.” Elias says with a straight face.

Straight face. That’s a funny one. He should call his husband and tell him that.

Jon sighs. Elias frowns. Did he say that out loud?

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Which part?” Jon asks, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

Elias frowned, pressing his lips close together. It wouldn’t do to ruin things with this unfortunate mistake. He better call Peter.

Slowly, he reaches for his phone once more, only to startle at the glimmer of the ring around his left hand.

Right. They were going through another divorce.

“ _Another div-_ Never mind, Elias. Just, just stand up, or something.”

He should really call Peter. Continuing the journey towards his phone, Jonah startles as it’s suddenly pulled out of his reach by a brown-skinned hand.

“I don’t think you should call your husband right now, Elias.”

That’s still not his name! It’s okay, though. It’s Jon. Jon can be forgiven.

“You’re forgiven,” he tells Jon serenely, but the other man just sighs.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” he mummers and reaches towards him to pull Elias’ body upright.

Jon is surprisingly strong. Elias appreciates that.

“I’m taken, you know,” he says vaguely as Jon warps his arms arounds his shoulders and pushes him upright.

“Or actually, I’m not right now,” he contemplates aloud, staring at the ring once more. “And you’re surprisingly strong. I like that.” A pause. “Still, I think you should ask Peter for permission, first. He probably won’t mind. I think.”

“I am just going to ignore _all of that_ and move on,” Jon says forcefully, and Jonah frowns once more. Wait, no, it’s Elias. Elias frowns once more.

He should really get himself home.

“I should really get myself home. I think. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes, Elias, I think that’s a _very_ good idea.” The expiration in Jon’s voice makes Elias fall into another giggling fit. A small, sober part of him is horrified at the spectacle he’s making of himself. Although, to be fair, that same part also thinks this is very hilarious.

“This is hilarious,” Elias decides to repeat out loud, just as he manages to stand on his own two feet, leaning heavily against Jon.

Is it getting colder, or is it just him?

It’s probably just him.

“I hate this.” Jon states flatly. “You pull this kind of shit constantly, Elias. And somehow, the only ones who ever notice it are us down in the Archives. Do you know how _frustrating_ it is to hear all the other staff talk about you like some noble aristocrat, how unfailingly polite you are, _blablabla_ , and then the day after you come down into the Archives to just, I don’t even know, breakdance in the breakroom? Do you have _any_ idea what that is like?”

“Do you,” Elias says, though it’s difficult to talk through his own snickering, “think I, I should? Breakdance in the, in, in the breakroom?” Something dawns on him, and he starts laughing in full. “The _break-_ room?”

He feels a forehead fall against his shoulder with a moan. Elias can’t stop laughing.

“Oh, dear. What is going on here?”

“Peter!” Elias exclaims in surprise, half-stepping forward into the arms of his husband, remembering just on time they are currently divorced.

Stopping himself, he leans back into the arms of his Archivist, who catches him mostly out of reflex. Good Archivist. Have a treat.

“Peter.” he states much more seriously, feeling his lips form into a pout.

“Mr. Lukas, please, _do something_.” Jon’s voice sounds desperate. Oh no. Jonah hopes he’s okay.

Wait. Elias, Jonah corrects himself, Elias hopes he’s okay.

Ugh. All these different bodies are so confusing sometimes.

“Good to meet you, Jon, was it? I don’t know,” Peter’s voice can be so _infuriating_ sometimes, he should really kiss him. No, wait. “You seem to be handling him quite well.”

Jon makes some noise that sounds like desperation. Elias concentrates and slowly pets Jon on the cheek, twice. “Shh,” he says soothingly, “it’s okay. Peter will go away soon.”

“God help me,” Jon mutters, eyes closed.

“Well, I hope I am an acceptable substitute,” the pleasantly chill voice of his husb- his ex-husband intones, coming closer.

Two strong, broad and familiar arms wrap around him, their chill seeping pleasantly through his clothes.

“No,” Elias mummers petulantly, “go away. I’m with Jon, now. He’s also strong.” Although not as strong as Peter. A pity.

“I don’t want any part of this,” Jon repeats, and Elias moves to pet his hair.

He is stopped by those two strong arms. “Now now, Elias,” Peter says and Jo- _Elias_ can just _hear_ the amused twinkle in his eye. “Let’s get you home now, shall we?”

“You are mean,” Elias whines, ignores the noise of disbelief coming from Jon’s direction and lets himself fall into his husband’s arms.

That always feels so nice.

“Mean,” he repeats, needing Peter to understand.

“I can be,” Peter agrees, and Elias nods contently into Peter’s shoulder.

“Okay, good luck with, all that, yeah,” Jon’s voice says, drifting away as the sounds of footsteps fade.

“Where is he going?” Elias asks no one in particular, voice pitched high.

Peter shrugs.

Jonah frowns and tries to See Jon, slipping into familiar portraits scattered strategically throughout his Institute.

Only to end up with a strange sense of vertigo as very different scenes overlap in his head – a deserted coffee shop across the Institute, lone passengers on a nearby subway station, his own slumped form in Peter’s arms .

“Owh,” he moans, and feels Peter chuckle.

“Let’s get you home now, shall we?” his soon-to-be husband says fondly as the mists close in around them.

Yeah. Maybe that’s for the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Elias is called Elias because his name is an alias come fight me
> 
> Feel free to prompt me in the comments!


End file.
